Bidding War (17 page)

"There are large towers in Shoreview," she said. "And the international airport has a big airspace we can't fly through without permission, so we follow the freeway for now, threading the needle. Once we're well clear of the cities, I'll show you the basics."

She did something, and the engine grew a lot quieter. "See? The joy of a constant speed propeller."

After another minute, she flipped switches on the radio and said, "You can talk now, Pamela."

"Moira! This is so cool!"

She glanced over. "I was so worried you would hate it."

"Are you kidding? This is amazing. How long have you been flying?"

"My father flies. I've been around airplanes my entire life. This is the second plane of my own. I bought it three years ago."

"Expensive?"

"A little." She paused. "The first one I bought cost about as much as a car, and it was very old and slow. This one is three times that, and it's about as old as you are."

"Wow." I said. "It looks great for being thirty years old. I can't imagine a car this old."

"Planes get better maintenance, don't have to deal with salt on the roads, and have fewer moving parts. And get flown less than most cars are driven." She paused. "The engine is fairly new. I replaced the old one at the last overhaul."

"That sounds expensive."

"About the cost of a car."

"Ouch. So you're saying I can't afford one."

She laughed. "You'd have to start with a less expensive plane. Or put out a lot and get me to let you fly this one, but this is a bad trainer."

I chuckled.

It was a beautiful day, and I could see forever. Downtown Minneapolis was on our right, and it looked beautiful. Ahead, I could see the large towers she had told me about. They were taller than we were flying.

"You could hit those."

"I've never heard of it happening, but I'm sure it must, somewhere.
We'll pass about a mile south of them. That's closer than I like, but I don't want to go around them to the north."

"A mile is close?"

"Yeah. A mile is a near miss."

We grinned at each other.

The radio made noise at us from time to time. Every time it did, I shut up, but Moira seemed to be ignoring it. "They aren't talking to us?"

"No. I'm just monitoring them, just in case. Once we're well clear of Minneapolis, I'll turn it off."

We passed to the south of the big towers, still following the freeway as it passed through the northern suburbs. Moira told me a story about her father teaching her to fly. "I was eight, and I couldn't reach the pedals. I needed a booster seat to see over the dash. But I got to fly. It was amazing."

Finally we left the freeway behind as it turned south through the eastern suburbs. Ahead I could just start to see the St. Croix River, and past it, Wisconsin.

"Figured out where we're going yet?"

"Chicago. Did I ruin your surprise?"

"No. I knew you would figure it out when you guessed the distance and saw the direction we were flying."

We flew over the St. Croix River and were inside Wisconsin. "We're going to climb higher now, then I'll teach you the basics."

She pressed a lever, and the engine noise increased, then she pulled on the steering wheel, and the nose lifted into the sky a little. She tapped an instrument on her side. "This is the altimeter. It tells us how high we are above sea level. The ground around here varies, but it's right around one thousand feet."

I looked at the altimeter. "So we're about two thousand feet above the ground?"

"Right. Good. I watched the needle as it turned clockwise."

"You won't want to stare at that, Pamela. Glance at it, but look outside most of the time. Watch for other airplanes."

"I thought you said I didn't have to help."

She laughed. "It's good practice."

She took us up until the altimeter showed fifty-five hundred feet, then leveled out. "We'll fly higher later, but this is a good height to practice."

Then she explained the controls. The pedals operated the rudder.

"Rudder?"

"Like a rudder on a boat."

"Oh, the thing at the back of the tail."

"Right. They also operate
the front wheel, which is currently tucked up in the belly. And they are also the brakes. If you flex your toes, it operates a brake, one pedal for the right wheel, one for the left. On the ground, you steer entirely with your feet."

"Not the steering wheel?"

"Yoke. No. Not the yoke. For today, you can ignore the pedals. It's not fully proper, but in this plane, it's close enough."

She explained the yoke, demonstrating. She pushed forward, and the nose dipped. She pulled back, and the nose lifted. She turned the yoke to the right, and the plane began to tip.

"All right," she said. "Using just a few fingers, grab the yoke."

"Am I going to crash us?"

"No. Hang on very lightly and look out the window."

I grabbed the yoke with three fingers of my right hand and looked outside.

"What is the plane doing?"

"Flying."

"Are you doing anything?"

"No."

"Look over at me."

I did. Her hands were in her lap. I immediately tightened my grip on the yoke, and suddenly I felt the plane wobbling all over the place. I screeched.

"Let go," she said calmly, her hands still in her lap.

"But-"

"Pamela, trust me. Let go."

I released the yoke. The plan wobbled a little, then went back to flying straight and level.

I looked outside. I looked at her. Her hands were still in her lap. I looked outside again. We were flying along, as serene as you can imagine.

"Auto pilot?"

"I have one. It's turned off."

"The plane flies better without me."

"Now, with just your thumb and two fingers, grab the yoke very lightly, like you're holding an egg."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

I took the yoke. The plane wobbled slightly, but I held the yoke as lightly as I could.

"Now, it's not a car. You don't move the yoke. You just give it a little pressure. I want you to push directly forward, just a little bit. A little pressure. Don't think about moving the yoke."

I pushed forward lightly, and the nose dipped towards the ground.

"Release the pressure and pull back just as lightly. Release again when we're level again."

I did what she said.

"Wow! That is so cool!"

"I know," she said. "Now, a turn.
It's the same thing, but you rotate the yoke. Let's do a gentle right turn."

I put a small amount of clockwise pressure on the yoke, and it began to bank towards my side.

"Good. Relax and we'll hold this bank," she said. "Give it a tiny bit of back pressure towards you to keep the nose from dipping."

I held the turn for a while. It was wobbly, but the plane turned towards the south.

"Okay, level the wings the same way you banked them, but the other direction." I did that, and soon we were flight straight again.

We spent the next half hour with me flying the plane. I became better and more relaxed and was grinning the entire time. Finally she had me point the plane to Chicago. "Keep us on this heading," she said. "Wake me up when you can see Chicago in the distance."

"Moira!"

She giggled.

"Having fun?" she asked.

"Yes. Is it really this easy?"

"For a start. You won't be doing the landing though."

We flew along, talking about flying. Then I turned to her. "Is today about impressing me?"

"Maybe some," she said. "But really, I thought it would be fun. And I wanted you for an entire day."

"If I were gay, would I be your type?"

"I don't really have a type," she said. "But would you be someone I would want to date? Yes."

"Date? Or relationship?"

She looked over at me and studied me. "That sounded like a more serious question than a simple answer allows." She paused. "I'll answer that if you'll answer an equally personally question."

"All right."

"Yes, you would be someone I could get serious about."

"Is there anyone else you're currently serious about?"

"No. If there were, I wouldn't have bid on you. That wouldn't be fair to her."

"All right." I smiled. "Thank you for answering. Your turn."

"Are you getting curious?"

"Curious?"

"Wondering what a relationship with a woman might be like."

"No." I paused. "Wondering what a relationship with you would be like."

She was silent for a while before quietly asking, "Are you teasing me?"

"No. I'm not making promises, either. But if it was a completely ridiculous thought, then I wanted to know."

She was silent again. I glanced over, and she was looking out the window on her side.

"Shouldn't you be monitoring the radios or the altimitthingie-ma-jiggee?"

She laughed. "You're doing great." Then she turned and looked at me. "Are you asking yourself the same questions about your new surgeon friend?"

"Yes." I paused. "A relationship with her would be very different than one with you."

"How so?"

I paused. I wasn't comfortable answering that. I didn't know how to answer it without violating Gwendolyn's privacy. Finally I said, "You and Gwendolyn are very different people. You both have treated me very well, better than any guy I've ever dated, so far at least. The attention you both give me is deeply flattering as well, and I'm probably caught up in that quite a bit." I paused. "I wasn't kidding when I said our date on Tuesday was my best date ever." I paused. "This one so far is so completely different, I couldn't begin to compare them."

She smiled, but didn't interrupt.

"You and I, we seem to fit. We're in the same industries, whether I want to be or not. But we could talk work with each other and understand each other. I understand your job and you understand mine."

"Whereas Gwendolyn is a surgeon," Moira said. "And frankly, doesn't have anything else she can talk about."

"That part isn't entirely true," I said. "You have to take the time to ask the right questions."

Neither of us spoke for a minute or two before Moira said, "How is it you figured that out after one date when no one else has?"

"Maybe everyone else was willing to be whisked off to bed so quickly they didn't care about anything else."

I looked over and she was staring at me with a rapt expression. "You're amazing," she said. "Truly amazing."

"I'm not so special," I said. "But thank you for saying so."

"You haven't answered my question though. How would it be different, other than talking about work?"

"You are different people. Different strengths and weaknesses."

"Gwendolyn doesn't have weaknesses."

I glanced at her. "Maybe you're right."

"Oh hell, you found her weaknesses?"

"We're not talking about anything that may or may not have been said in private. Please don't pry."

We flew along with only the sound of the engine and the wind blowing over the plane. Then Moira said, "I have never wanted someone more than I want you right now."

I looked over, and she looked serious. I began to blush furiously, but I also felt myself growing wet. Her words settled into my core and gave me a warm, happy glow.

"I'm not ready for that yet, Moira." I said. "And I don't want to lead you on. I don't know what I want right now. But I know I love the way you treat me, and I really like you. I love how you make me feel. I just wonder if this is what it would really be like with you, and you may not be interested afterwards, if we went down that path. I might be a really bad lay."

She laughed. "I would be happy to teach you."

"I imagine you would. You would want me to get lots of practice."

"Exactly."

I paused. "Sam had me look up the word pansexual."

"Did you?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"I don't know." I paused. "You need to let me figure this out. I suspect you could sweep me away. Please let me figure this out. And if you decide you're unlikely to be interested, tell me so I won't break my heart."

"I'm older than you are, but quite a bit," she said.

I glanced at her. "Less than ten years," I said. "Almost nothing."

"Honey," she said. "Fifteen. At least. You're what? Late twenties?"

"Thirty-one."

"Thirteen years," she said.

I glanced at her. "I was guessing younger. The difference doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you."